Old Wicked (The Last Dragon Lord Book 3)

by Michael La Ronn

  “My name is Edwil Dolingreen. I am an investigator for the Hall of Governance.”

  “That’s one hell of a name. You’re as elven as they get.”

  “My family is pure blood,” Edwil said. “At least as pure blood as one can be in today’s society.”

  Lucan paused.

  The blue eyes blinked. They were watching him, listening to his every word.

  He recognized the eyes. They had been the same, cold blue eyes that attacked him in his uncle’s office. His uncle was behind this—that he knew. He didn’t trust those eyes.

  “You’re worried about the eyes,” Edwil said, sensing Lucan’s fear. “Well, perhaps you should be. They’re the eyes of an Abstraction. But the true question you need to worry about, Mr. Grimoire, is how you’re going to get out of this one.”

  “My attorney will be waiting at the Hall,” Lucan said. “I’m not saying a goddamn thing until then.”

  Edwil looked at him from underneath his sunglasses. “Is that right? We know your tricks. You did this exact same thing to Demetrius Shalewood.”

  “Screw you.”

  Edwil snapped his fingers. The eyes blinked and disappeared momentarily, then reappeared with sound waves underneath them.

  “Your friends are cooperating. Shall we listen to them?”

  We discussed the plan. They’re not going to talk. This is intimidation crap.

  Lucan shifted uncomfortably as he heard Earl’s voice.

  “Earl Whitlock,” the man said. It sounded like Earl, but if the elves were using magic, Lucan couldn’t be sure.

  “Tell us, Earl, is your man guilty?” an investigator asked.

  “I’m sorry, sir. I won’t be speaking, under advisement of my attorney.”

  “Cut the crap, Earl. We know where you live. We know you have a family. Do you want to go to jail?”

  “Seeing as I’ve done nothing wrong, no.”

  Give ‘em hell, Earl.

  “Seven kids is a lot,” the investigator said. “Want them to end up on the streets, hating their father?”

  Earl started to say something but then he paused. “I’m sorry, sir. I won’t be speaking—”

  The audio shifted to what sounded like Miri. Lucan heard sniffles.

  “You’re a disgrace of a professor,” the investigator said. This one was decidedly more angry. “You destroyed Magic Hope University.”

  “No!” Miri cried.

  “You are responsible for dismantling decades of tradition, all for your selfish vanity!”

  “No, I didn’t. Listen—”

  “You were angry with Dean Rosehill, so you wanted revenge.”

  “Please, stop. I—”

  Lucan balled his fists. “Miri, shut up!”

  She couldn’t hear him.

  No sooner than the words escaped from his lips did he realize his mistake.

  The sound waves disappeared and so did Miri’s voice.

  The eyes blinked, then narrowed as they scrutinized Lucan.

  Edwil smirked. “So, you do have a story to tell.”

  “Go to Hell.”

  “I’m happy to ride the rest of the way in silence,” Edwil said. “Or you can tell me the truth, and if there’s no wrongdoing, we’ll drop you off at your penthouse on the way home. That would anger your uncle, but like I said, we don’t work for him.”

  “Then who do you work for?” Lucan asked.

  Edwil laughed and leaned toward Lucan. “We’re in this for the truth. I read your reports. The fake one and the real one. Do you seriously think you’re getting out of this unscathed?”

  “I’ve done nothing wrong,” Lucan said.

  Edwil clucked his tongue. “Okay. You want to do this the hard way.”

  “I’m not telling you anything without my attorney present.”

  Edwil pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to Lucan. It was neatly folded. Lucan unfolded it and read it.

  Extortion: 1 count

  Obstruction of justice: 5 counts

  Violation of the Magical Lands Act: 1 count

  Aiding and abetting a known enemy of the state: 1 count

  Failure to notify authorities of a clear and present danger: 1 count

  Election fraud: 1 count

  Corruption: 15 counts

  Undue influence: 2 counts

  Misappropriation of election funds: 1 count

  Child endangerment: 1 count

  Are you afraid now?

  The knob in Lucan’s throat tightened.

  Don’t show fear. Don’t fall for this bullshit.

  “Got a pen?” Lucan asked.

  “Why?”

  “I’d like to write something down about you.”

  Edwil chuckled and produced a pen from his pocket. “I’m listening.”

  Lucan took the pen, unclicked it and wrote on the back of the paper.

  Intimidating a witness: 1 count

  Douchebaggery: 1 count

  Bad breath: 1 count

  Why haven’t you gone and screwed yourself yet???

  He handed it to Edwil and the smirk disappeared from the investigator’s face.

  “I’ll expect you to keep a copy of that paper, by the way. My attorney would love to see it.”

  Edwil turned the paper over. The original allegations written were gone.

  “Magical ink, huh?” Lucan asked. “You guys are something else.”

  “You should prepare yourself,” Edwil said. He waved a hand and the blue eyes disappeared. Then the tint on the windows vanished and Lucan could see outside.

  The Hall of Governance loomed. The great gray structure with its hundreds of spires lay in the distance. Lucan expected to see reporters, but the grounds were surprisingly quiet. However, there were several men in black suits standing watch in front of the building. Several black cars pulled to a stop in front of them, and the men ushered Miri, Celesse and Earl out.

  Celesse looked stressed. She looked around frantically.

  Just hang in there, babe.

  Edwil tipped his sunglasses at him. “Time to explain what you’ve been doing these last few days.”

  IV

  Amal Shalewood breathed in deeply as she gripped the golden handle to Governor Grimoire’s office. Through the frosted glass she could see his shadow, and she heard his deep voice talking to someone.

  “He’ll see you now,” the governor’s secretary said. “He’s just wrapping up a call.”

  Amal thanked the secretary and entered the room.

  The air was thick with remnants of cigar smoke and musk. Ennius sat at his desk, his hands clasped together as he spoke into his phone on speaker.

  Amal had wanted to come into the room with insults swinging.

  The governor had shut down the most important political speech of her life, and she was powerless.

  But she had to wait now. She didn’t know what to do with her nervous energy. Pace? Breathe deeply?

  Never in her life had she wanted to explode more than she did today.

  She walked up to the desk and folded her arms, pretending that her gaze was a laser boring right through the top of the governor’s bald head.

  Upon seeing her, Ennius looked up, smiled and held up a finger that told her he would be done shortly.

  A voice that sounded like a journalist was on the phone.

  “Mr. Governor, we want to thank you for the interview. We hate to address the unfortunate event, but can you comment on the devastation at Magic Hope University?”

  “My goodness, I’m glad you didn’t let me off the phone without asking,” Ennius said. “Few institutions have done more for the city than Magic Hope University. Dean Rosehill was a personal friend. While I didn’t agree with everything he did as leader of the school, I about wept when I saw the photos of the chaos. We now have fifteen thousand students who cannot continue their education and two thousand professors, staff and administrators who are out of a job. I just sent an emergency bill to the Hall to grant honorary degrees to senior
students and three months’ pay to staff. It’s not much, but it’s a good start.”

  “What do you think caused Dean Rosehill to destroy his legacy?” the journalist asked.

  “I don’t know,” Ennius said. “But my priority right now is to get our students back into the classroom. This isn’t a time for politics.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Governor.…”

  Ennius said his final words and then disconnected the call.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting, Amal,” he said, not looking at her. He pulled out a pen and paper, and he unhooked his crescent glasses from his suit pocket. He produced a laminated report from his desk drawer, unclicked his pen and said, “My nephew is the gift that keeps on giving, isn’t he?”

  Amal finally had her chance to speak. “How about we discuss how you sabotaged my speech?”

  Ennius grinned and gestured her to sit. “You are not a threat to me.”

  Amal sat down. “Then why did you do it?”

  “Because at the time, you knew more about this entire situation than me, and that’s saying a tremendous amount.”

  “You mean you didn’t know?”

  Ennius shook his head. “And it pisses me off, all of it!”

  That the governor would not know what was going on in his own city startled Amal. She wondered if it was a lie.

  “So let me get this straight: you put me under an injunction because to speak about this would undermine your authority and hurt you in the election, correct?”

  “Correct.”

  “And how is that not sabotage?”

  Ennius stood and walked around the desk, sitting in front of Amal. She could smell his strong, oaky cologne. “We have the same enemy, Amal.”

  “I want nothing to do with your feud,” she said.

  “We both know that’s false,” Ennius said. “The moment you decided to make your speech, you were going interject yourself right in the middle of it.”

  “What do you want?”

  Ennius walked over to his window. Bright sunlight cast a shadow over him. “The election is in a few days. I’m sorry to say it, but you’re so far behind. You don’t have a chance.”

  “When you lift my injunction, I will.”

  “That may take another few days,” Ennius said. “What I need for you to do is drop out.”

  Here it was. The real reason behind it all.

  “Never.”

  Ennius turned. “My lieutenant governor is resigning at the end of next year. I’ll be in need of a new one, someone who the public supports.”

  “Me?” Amal asked. “If you’re bribing me—”

  “Call it a bribe, but it’s really a peace offering. You become my lieutenant governor, I’ll adopt a few of your signature policies, and at the end of my term, I’ll endorse you, and with luck, you’ll become the first human governor of an elven city.”

  “All so that Lucan won’t win?” Amal asked. “That’s a bit cruel.”

  “Don’t waste any tears on my nephew. You know what happened. The public will turn against him.”

  Amal brushed dust off her suit jacket and she stood up. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Governor.”

  “You’re upset. I don’t hold that against you,” Ennius said. “But if you want to do some good in the world, put your emotions aside. I’ll follow up with you when the injunction is lifted. This is your chance, Amal.”

  Amal found it strange that he did not turn his back to look at her.

  She slipped out of the room and shut the door quietly behind her.

  ***

  Her husband, Demetrius, was waiting for her. She spotted his beige trench coat and fading derby hat from halfway across the lobby.

  “Did you tell him off?” Demetrius asked. His eyes were bright with anticipation.

  Amal pushed past him.

  “What happened?” he asked, catching up.

  “I’ve got some thinking to do,” she said, walking out into the sunshine.

  V

  Fenroot watched as an army of dragons landed on the snowy shores of the northern continent. He stood atop a rocky bluff, watching as the dragons piled on the icy shore. The cold, bitter wind blew snow around in jagged wisps. Through the whirling white, he saw the dragons line up according to an elven woman who was pacing up and down the ranks, calling out names.

  One by one, each dragon spread its wings and shook off dozens and dozens of elves, all dressed in white. They fell off the dragons like sheets of ice, and they scrambled into the snow and lined up as the elven commander made rounds. An aura of smoke rose into the air as the dragons blew fire to keep everyone warm. Soon, the entire foot of the mountain was covered in a patchwork quilt of hundreds of dragons and elves.

  The wide expanse of frozen ocean behind the army cracked as the wind rushed over it.

  Fenroot blew fire from his own mouth to warm himself up. He welcomed the challenge of the cold. If anything, it took his mind off the specter that had haunted him for a thousand years.

  He had dreamed this day would come. No—Old Dark’s parents—a bastard and bitch who had nothing better to do in life than thrive on others’ suffering—had told him.

  Fenroot watched them burn. He tied their wings to a stake himself. Alsatius, with his blindness and Smirnagond with her stitched mouth. Since he couldn’t finish Dark, he knew he could at least get rid of them.

  And he did, gathering a mob that stormed their palace. He lit the magical flame that consumed their bodies, and he enjoyed every moment of it.

  They screamed in the flames! But Alsatius chanted something, and Smirnagond’s body glowed.

  They were casting a spell.

  Fenroot cut them down but he was too late. Alsatius looked up at him with clarity in his blind eyes and a grin that Fenroot would never forget.

  “Count down to your death,” the dragon said. “For my son will return. We have sent him our power just now. Heh heh.…”

  “Where is he?” Fenroot asked.

  “He’ll reside in your dreams.…”

  Fenroot killed them both instantly.

  He had thought the prophecy foolish, that they were toying with his mind.

  But shortly after he was declared dragon lord, a dragon seer confirmed the aura of a curse around his body. The seer read his aura and told him, “One day, a specter from your past will return, and if you are not prudent, it will claim your life.”

  The seer had been loyal to Old Dark and he thought she too was trying to toy with his mind.

  Toy with a dragon lord!

  He had the seer drowned. The old Keeper died with a smile on her lips.

  He’d never forgotten that smile. It swirled through his dreams, crept upon his mind’s eye during daylight, and as time went on, he wondered if it was really true.

  Seeing Dark’s face, imagining him reanimated, made him sweat. Fenroot had tricked him once, but the old dragon wouldn’t be tricked again.

  He would be back for blood, and if Fenroot wasn’t careful, he’d have it—rivers and rivers of it.

  Fenroot had gone into hiding, not out of fear, but for preparation.

  He’d amassed the best army the world had never seen.

  He was ready for the old dragon lord. He’d have the black dragon’s head and return once more to his rightful place—the lord of the world.

  And now, here on the snow-packed mountain, the realization hit him.

  The seer had been right.

  He ground his teeth together as he watched the army start drills.

  A red Crafter dragon scaled the mountain to meet him. “We are all accounted for, my lord.”

  “Good. Wait for my command.”

  The dragon scurried back down the side of the mountain.

  “You’re sure this is the first, best stop?” Moss asked.

  The green dragon had been coiled up next to him, blowing smoke on himself to stay warm. “I don’t know how any dragon can survive in this place. It’s a wasteland.”

  “We’re here for a good
reason,” Fenroot said.

  Moss looked over the army, incredulous. “So this is what you’ve been doing for the last thousand years, eh?”

  “It’s more than what you’ve been doing.”

  Fenroot had tried to convince Moss to go back to Magic Hope City, but the dragon insisted on staying with the army for protection. His cowardice was wearing on Fenroot.

  Moss frowned. “I would hardly call running a city nothing.”

  “There won’t be any cities left to run if he gains power.”

  “You think I don’t recognize his skill?” Moss asked. “My daughters would be alive right now if we hadn’t finished him off in the forest like we should have.”

  “And that’s my fault, is it? If I remember correctly, I was the one who did the fighting.”

  “I cheered you on. I provided support!”

  Fenroot laughed. To think that Moss had once been formidable...he was just an old dragon scared for his life now. The Crafter dragon had gained weight. He couldn’t use magic anymore because of Abstraction...why was he here?

  Fenroot started across the snowy valley that lay ahead. “I have work to do.”

  “We have work to do.”

  Moss followed him, and he sighed.

  The snowy plains crunched underneath their claws and while the mountain valley protected them from the wind somewhat, they had to keep blowing smoke to keep themselves warm. After what seemed like miles, they came to the base of a topsy-turvy mountain that looked like something out of a storybook.

  The mountain was blue, and its peak was ringed with clouds.

  Fenroot lifted into the air, pushing against the wind. Moss followed, tucking his head against his chest.

  As they flew higher, they noticed eyes looking at them. Bright, jewel-like specks amidst the snow.

  Fenroot landed near the summit in a patch of flat snow.

  Four-legged shadows crawled up the mountain. A whirlwind blew, concealing their faces—but their eyes shone, and so did their sharp, knife-like teeth.

  “Are you here for war?” one of the shadows asked. “If so, allow us to give you a more proper introduction.”

  Fenroot flexed his wings. From the looks of it, he was taller, broader and more muscular than these dragons. Then again, he was bigger than most dragons. He could take them all in a fight—-wouldn’t it be like old times to break out his claws again and leave them strewn along the mountain!